Chp-67
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Freefaller
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Chp-67
Kaela Grant
Minda System, Ugea, Accordia, Imperial Island
Kaela's office used to be quite spartan.
The walls were often bereft of any decoration, there was no rug, and the only other seating aside from the desk were two chairs set off to the side.
Recently, that had started to change.
A shelf had been placed to the side of the room, and on it large sculptures.
They weren't very good. A rough approximation of a TIE fighter. A Stormtroopers helmet. A stick that looked vaguely like an E-11 if you squinted.
On her desk sat the smaller projects. Cups, knives, rough humanoid figures. They littered her desk, a basket full of shavings in a corner and a vibro knife sitting on the desk.
One that Kaela desperately wanted to use to gut that miserable WORM-
Internally, she leashed the beast. Thorne wasn't here right now, after all. And even if he was, killing him then impaling his corpse and parading it across the city would have very negative consequences for all involved.
Still, it was hard. After all that FOOL dared invade her territory.
She had understood it at first. The ISB is better suited to rooting out the more insidious parts of the rebellion like the ones that they were dealing with, while her own forces were geared towards security and assualt.
But then, he declared martial law in Augir. Without consulting her. Without consulting the Governor.
Thorne was here as a hunter-killer group. An investigative team. And yet, he has increasingly operated independently of her and the rest of the Mindan Imperial apparatus.
And now he's locked down Augir. Augir! 3rd largest city on the planet, and the second largest refinery in the system!
The beast raged again, and she found herself agreeing with it. She had accepted him onto her territory because he offered skills and expertise she lacked. But he turns around and does THIS!
Her clenched fist slammed into the desk with a boom, the light metal denting under her rage.
For a moment, the cage seemed primed to open.
Her hand grasped the vibro knife so hard the handle creaked, but she focused herself.
In her other hand was a wooden disk. At first, she nearly hacked into it with the knife, yet slowly her cuts became more methodical. More careful. The Imperial Sigil slowly forming on the disk.
As the knife flowed through the wood like butter, it calmed her. The cage stayed firmly closed.
And as it did, her mind calmed with it, now in a better place to truly think.
She couldn't kill him, and lacked the connections and skills needed to arrange an 'accident'. So, how to get rid of him?
She could wait for the Governor to return. He was an economically driven man, and would likely be at odds with Thorne for this.
No, that wouldn't do. Thorne was sent by the Moff, and the Governor would have little recourse there.
And Thorne's decision was logical as well, the same one she might've made, so she couldn't point to it as incompetence.
So how to be rid of him?
That's when it dawned on her.
Thorne wasn't a permanent fixture. He was here for a specific assignment. He was here to root out the rebels. If the rebels were caught, he would leave.
So, all she had to do was find the rebels. The very rebels she admitted she lacked the skills to catch.
What was that word the Governor liked? Ah yes…
"Fuck…"
-
1
Minda System, Ugea, Augir
The hovertruck trundled along down the road, moving through the city's many side streets.
Augir was a blatantly industrial city. While Accordia had towering buildings, skybridges, train tracks crisscrossing entire districts, and markets that spread miles, Augir had industry.
Everywhere.
Pipes ran in every direction. If you looked into the sky, half the ships you spotted were cargo shuttles carrying ore in and out. There were more cargo trains than commuter ones.
The refinery spit out so much dust and gas that, a few years ago, they installed large air purifiers everywhere across the city. Large, smooth towers that looked alien in such a rough city.
Now, the refinery was better, cleaner, but the purifiers stayed there. Made the air some of the freshest on the planet. A harsh contrast to the city's looks.
The hovertruck trundled along, gliding smoothly down the road. Soon, they left the central city. The organic roads of the original city's construction gave way to a more uniform grid.
The buildings looked newer, many being modular habs. A stark contrast to the rough, utilitarian design of the metal buildings in the city center. Many there still had the signs of old air filtration systems and airlocks.
Some people still wore filter masks as a habit.
Here, however, in the newer parts of the city, things were different. There was more color, but the ruggedness endured.
Patches of greenery stood out, at times seeming completely forced into the area.
Of course, 1 never saw any of that.
1, instead, was hidden away in the truck's cargo container. Huddled into the cramped space with 2 and 3, while a nameless, faceless contact drove the truck.
Soon, the truck came to a stop, and 1 heard the sound of talking. They weren't set to stop this early.
A checkpoint.
With Agent Thorne having locked down the city mere hours ago, it had been a possibility that checkpoints would have been set up, but not this quickly. At least, not within the city itself.
Then, a click. The container was being opened.
1's hand inched towards his blaster, flicking it to stun, but otherwise kept still. 2 and 3 did the same.
They were hidden in the farthest reaches of the container, behind walls and walls of things.
A flashlight ripped through the darkness, and for a few tense moments no one moved an inch.
Then, the lights went off, and the door was closed.
Soon enough, the truck was back on the road, heading to the Warehouse district. Named as such for the titular warehouses.
An incredible amount of mass came in and out of the city each day, and there needed to be someplace to store it in the meanwhile.
Eventually, the truck came to a stop, and they exited.
Each of them wore the same outfit. Dark leathers with similarly dark armor plating and tactical vests. Armed with generic blaster rifles found on just about any pirate or smuggler, yet tuned and refined to compete with military grade weaponry.
Their helmets were smooth, simple, and fitted with air filtration hardware.
As generic as it could get. No one would be able to tell them apart from any other secret kill team. Which, of course, was the point. SWEEP couldn't afford to be exposed, certainly not by their dress code.
Before the team was a warehouse, one of many, unassuming in the veritable sea of warehouses that stretched for miles.
1 nodded to the others, before doing a final check on his silencer.
It was functional.
Lining up beside the door, they prepared to breach, communicating solely through handsigns. They only ever spoke when needed, and did so through voice modifiers embedded in their helmets.
Still, despite the lack of comradery, 1 found himself remembering his time as a Commando. Hitting the Seppies where it hurt.
Regardless, he had a job to do.
They scanned the door. No traps, no bombs.
Lifeform scanner went next. 10 people.
1 counted down.
3
2
1
Breach.
The loudest sound they made was when they kicked down the door. As they entered, 1 scanned the area with his eyes, marking every potential target.
The warehouse was filled with more droids, at least 50 that he recognized as B1 and B2 battle droids. Thankfully deactivated.
As the rebels scramble to their feet, many covered in bacta patches and bandages, likely from their recent run in with Thorne's men, 1's team is already firing.
Blaster shots aren't the loudest thing in the world. With silencers? Scarily quiet.
Rings of blue flash across the warehouse, stunning every rebel in sight.
1 nails a few, while 2 covers his flank.
3 starts sweeping the side rooms, the occasional flash of blue signaling their success.
5 minutes after breaching, the warehouse was quiet. A few quick hand signals between the team, and they busy themselves with cuffing the rebels and preparing them for transport.
With the checkpoints still active around the city, they would have to go to a different safehouse and delay extraction. They couldn't risk getting caught, not now. The truck wasn't big enough to hide all the bodies.
And they needed those rebels alive.
Dead men tell no tales, after all.
-
Hi there folks! I wanted to toss this out there. May have noticed I've stopped with chapter titles. As much as they might be fun, 65 chapters is tiring.
Also, I wanted to properly introduce SWEEP! Darna's totally-not-a-secret-police group!
As always, feedback and commentary appreciated.
Thanks for reading!
-Freefaller
Kaela Grant
Minda System, Ugea, Accordia, Imperial Island
Kaela's office used to be quite spartan.
The walls were often bereft of any decoration, there was no rug, and the only other seating aside from the desk were two chairs set off to the side.
Recently, that had started to change.
A shelf had been placed to the side of the room, and on it large sculptures.
They weren't very good. A rough approximation of a TIE fighter. A Stormtroopers helmet. A stick that looked vaguely like an E-11 if you squinted.
On her desk sat the smaller projects. Cups, knives, rough humanoid figures. They littered her desk, a basket full of shavings in a corner and a vibro knife sitting on the desk.
One that Kaela desperately wanted to use to gut that miserable WORM-
Internally, she leashed the beast. Thorne wasn't here right now, after all. And even if he was, killing him then impaling his corpse and parading it across the city would have very negative consequences for all involved.
Still, it was hard. After all that FOOL dared invade her territory.
She had understood it at first. The ISB is better suited to rooting out the more insidious parts of the rebellion like the ones that they were dealing with, while her own forces were geared towards security and assualt.
But then, he declared martial law in Augir. Without consulting her. Without consulting the Governor.
Thorne was here as a hunter-killer group. An investigative team. And yet, he has increasingly operated independently of her and the rest of the Mindan Imperial apparatus.
And now he's locked down Augir. Augir! 3rd largest city on the planet, and the second largest refinery in the system!
The beast raged again, and she found herself agreeing with it. She had accepted him onto her territory because he offered skills and expertise she lacked. But he turns around and does THIS!
Her clenched fist slammed into the desk with a boom, the light metal denting under her rage.
For a moment, the cage seemed primed to open.
Her hand grasped the vibro knife so hard the handle creaked, but she focused herself.
In her other hand was a wooden disk. At first, she nearly hacked into it with the knife, yet slowly her cuts became more methodical. More careful. The Imperial Sigil slowly forming on the disk.
As the knife flowed through the wood like butter, it calmed her. The cage stayed firmly closed.
And as it did, her mind calmed with it, now in a better place to truly think.
She couldn't kill him, and lacked the connections and skills needed to arrange an 'accident'. So, how to get rid of him?
She could wait for the Governor to return. He was an economically driven man, and would likely be at odds with Thorne for this.
No, that wouldn't do. Thorne was sent by the Moff, and the Governor would have little recourse there.
And Thorne's decision was logical as well, the same one she might've made, so she couldn't point to it as incompetence.
So how to be rid of him?
That's when it dawned on her.
Thorne wasn't a permanent fixture. He was here for a specific assignment. He was here to root out the rebels. If the rebels were caught, he would leave.
So, all she had to do was find the rebels. The very rebels she admitted she lacked the skills to catch.
What was that word the Governor liked? Ah yes…
"Fuck…"
-
1
Minda System, Ugea, Augir
The hovertruck trundled along down the road, moving through the city's many side streets.
Augir was a blatantly industrial city. While Accordia had towering buildings, skybridges, train tracks crisscrossing entire districts, and markets that spread miles, Augir had industry.
Everywhere.
Pipes ran in every direction. If you looked into the sky, half the ships you spotted were cargo shuttles carrying ore in and out. There were more cargo trains than commuter ones.
The refinery spit out so much dust and gas that, a few years ago, they installed large air purifiers everywhere across the city. Large, smooth towers that looked alien in such a rough city.
Now, the refinery was better, cleaner, but the purifiers stayed there. Made the air some of the freshest on the planet. A harsh contrast to the city's looks.
The hovertruck trundled along, gliding smoothly down the road. Soon, they left the central city. The organic roads of the original city's construction gave way to a more uniform grid.
The buildings looked newer, many being modular habs. A stark contrast to the rough, utilitarian design of the metal buildings in the city center. Many there still had the signs of old air filtration systems and airlocks.
Some people still wore filter masks as a habit.
Here, however, in the newer parts of the city, things were different. There was more color, but the ruggedness endured.
Patches of greenery stood out, at times seeming completely forced into the area.
Of course, 1 never saw any of that.
1, instead, was hidden away in the truck's cargo container. Huddled into the cramped space with 2 and 3, while a nameless, faceless contact drove the truck.
Soon, the truck came to a stop, and 1 heard the sound of talking. They weren't set to stop this early.
A checkpoint.
With Agent Thorne having locked down the city mere hours ago, it had been a possibility that checkpoints would have been set up, but not this quickly. At least, not within the city itself.
Then, a click. The container was being opened.
1's hand inched towards his blaster, flicking it to stun, but otherwise kept still. 2 and 3 did the same.
They were hidden in the farthest reaches of the container, behind walls and walls of things.
A flashlight ripped through the darkness, and for a few tense moments no one moved an inch.
Then, the lights went off, and the door was closed.
Soon enough, the truck was back on the road, heading to the Warehouse district. Named as such for the titular warehouses.
An incredible amount of mass came in and out of the city each day, and there needed to be someplace to store it in the meanwhile.
Eventually, the truck came to a stop, and they exited.
Each of them wore the same outfit. Dark leathers with similarly dark armor plating and tactical vests. Armed with generic blaster rifles found on just about any pirate or smuggler, yet tuned and refined to compete with military grade weaponry.
Their helmets were smooth, simple, and fitted with air filtration hardware.
As generic as it could get. No one would be able to tell them apart from any other secret kill team. Which, of course, was the point. SWEEP couldn't afford to be exposed, certainly not by their dress code.
Before the team was a warehouse, one of many, unassuming in the veritable sea of warehouses that stretched for miles.
1 nodded to the others, before doing a final check on his silencer.
It was functional.
Lining up beside the door, they prepared to breach, communicating solely through handsigns. They only ever spoke when needed, and did so through voice modifiers embedded in their helmets.
Still, despite the lack of comradery, 1 found himself remembering his time as a Commando. Hitting the Seppies where it hurt.
Regardless, he had a job to do.
They scanned the door. No traps, no bombs.
Lifeform scanner went next. 10 people.
1 counted down.
3
2
1
Breach.
The loudest sound they made was when they kicked down the door. As they entered, 1 scanned the area with his eyes, marking every potential target.
The warehouse was filled with more droids, at least 50 that he recognized as B1 and B2 battle droids. Thankfully deactivated.
As the rebels scramble to their feet, many covered in bacta patches and bandages, likely from their recent run in with Thorne's men, 1's team is already firing.
Blaster shots aren't the loudest thing in the world. With silencers? Scarily quiet.
Rings of blue flash across the warehouse, stunning every rebel in sight.
1 nails a few, while 2 covers his flank.
3 starts sweeping the side rooms, the occasional flash of blue signaling their success.
5 minutes after breaching, the warehouse was quiet. A few quick hand signals between the team, and they busy themselves with cuffing the rebels and preparing them for transport.
With the checkpoints still active around the city, they would have to go to a different safehouse and delay extraction. They couldn't risk getting caught, not now. The truck wasn't big enough to hide all the bodies.
And they needed those rebels alive.
Dead men tell no tales, after all.
-
Hi there folks! I wanted to toss this out there. May have noticed I've stopped with chapter titles. As much as they might be fun, 65 chapters is tiring.
Also, I wanted to properly introduce SWEEP! Darna's totally-not-a-secret-police group!
As always, feedback and commentary appreciated.
Thanks for reading!
-Freefaller
